


You, Me, and a Launchpad Makes Three

by Mighty_Ant



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: AU, Adoption, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Love is Like a Hurricane Vol. 2, M/M, Set during Darkly Dawns the Duck-scenario, Zine Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_Ant/pseuds/Mighty_Ant
Summary: “You don’t understand, I already upended my entire life to become Darkwing.” Frantic, he gestures around himself: at the Thunderquack on its landing platform, the raised dias behind him chock full of crime-solving gadgets, the whole of his hideout atop the Audubon Bay Bridge. “And now I’m upending my life all over again for a little girl?”
Relationships: Drake Mallard & Gosalyn Mallard & Launchpad McQuack, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 9
Kudos: 192





	You, Me, and a Launchpad Makes Three

_ I'll be near to chase away fear, _

_ So sleep now and dream 'til tomorrow. _

Drake and Launchpad trail off in their impromptu lullaby as between each blink Gosalyn’s eyes remain closed for longer. After countless days evading F.O.W.L. goons and power hungry mad scientists, the quiet darkness of their bedroom is a balm; here where they’re practically on top of the world, or at least the Audubon Bay Bridge. 

As she slips deeper into slumber, Gosalyn slumps against Drake’s side, her small hands finding purchase in the give of his suit. Affection burns in the space between his ribs and he looks over Gosalyn’s head at Launchpad sitting on her other side, holding her steady with a hand on her back. That burn turns molten when he finds Launchpad’s already watching him, his features soft in the muted dark. 

Launchpad leans forward, his beak brushing against Drake’s temple. He drops a kiss against his feathers. “We should let her get some shut-eye,” he says, quiet and close, his breath fanning out against Drake’s cheek. 

He nods. “Yeah, okay.” 

Launchpad rises carefully from their bed to avoid disturbing Gosalyn and Drake slowly does the same. With Launchpad’s help he turns the bed down and tucks her under the blankets, but he runs into another problem; she doesn’t want to let go of him. As he attempts to work Gosalyn’s fingers free of his suit, her eyes open groggily. “Buh?” she says. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Gosalyn. Go back to sleep,” Drake whispers. Her grip loosens and he gently lays her hands on her stomach. 

“La’pad?” she mumbles. 

Behind him, Launchpad chuckles. “I’m here, kiddo.”

Gosalyn grumbles something sleepy and unintelligible as she turns on her side, hiking the blanket up higher as she goes. Drake can’t fight the smile that curls, unbidden, on his face nor the urge to brush the hair out of her eyes. 

“Good night, Gosalyn,” he says. 

Burying her face in her pillow, her reply is quiet but to Drake’s mind she might as well have shouted it. “Night, Dad.”

It’s nearing one am when Gosalyn finally falls asleep and he and Launchpad creep out of the room as silently as they’re able. Only then does Drake allow himself to panic.

“I think she wants me to adopt her!” he hisses, pacing the length of his hideout's main chamber. His high ceiling lends itself to impressive acoustics that he would normally take advantage of for dramatic effect, but he doesn’t dare risk waking Gosalyn after the ordeal she faced today. As it is, the hammering of his heart leaves room for little else to focus on. “I mean, that’s crazy, right? Launchpad, tell me that’s crazy.”

On Drake’s third rotation, Launchpad looks up from where he’s running maintenance on the Ratcatcher. “It’s not that crazy,” he says. 

Drake stops and throws his hands on the air, exasperted. “Launchpad!” 

“What?” he replies, laughing as he sets down the torque wrench. “What’s so crazy about it, Drake?”

“What’s so—what—look at me!” he grips his cape in both hands, splaying it behind him. “I’m one of the last people who should be raising a kid.”

Launchpad stands, wiping his hands off on a rag. “I dunno, I can think of plenty less qualified people,” he replies. “And most of them aren’t even super villains.”

“I don’t know the first thing about raising a kid,” Drake counters, but his asperity is waning. Launchpad crosses the short distance between them and tugs Drake gently into his arms. 

“Nobody really knows what they’re doing at first,” Launchpad says, shrugging. “I didn’t look at a plane when I was five and right away know how to crash it. You just have to learn.”

Drake clings to Launchpad’s jacket, leaning against the solid, warm weight of him. “How,” he says, swallowing thickly. He doesn’t look away from his hands, white-knuckled around the leather. “How can you have so much faith in me? How do you know I won’t just screw it all up?”

Launchpad tips Drake’s head up with a nudge under his chin. “Because you’re Darkwing Duck,” he says simply. “And Darkwing Duck gets back up, no matter how hard things get.” 

Drake shakes his head a little, disbelieving. Usually praise from Launchpad is the highest form there is, but Drake’s own doubts have turned his self-esteem into Teflon. 

“I don’t know, I— this whole thing sounds like it could get—”

“Dangerous?” Launchpad offers, his smile small and wry, and the sight of it coupled with his fond inflection tears Drake up inside. 

He twists out of Launchpad’s embrace and Launchpad lets him. 

“You don’t understand, I already upended my entire life to become Darkwing.” Frantic, he gestures around himself: at the Thunderquack on its landing platform, the raised dias behind him chock full of crime-solving gadgets, the whole of his hideout atop the Audubon Bay Bridge. “And now I’m upending my life all over again for a little girl?”

A little girl who deserves better than him and more than he can offer her.

“I do understand, Drake,” Launchpad says, serious in a way that makes Drake turn around at once. His brow is furrowed, expression plaintive in a way Drake has rarely seen. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he says, spreading his arms slightly. “At the top of the world, in every F.O.W.L. stronghold, next to you in the Thunderquack.” He approaches Drake slowly, and Drake couldn’t hope to move, arrested by Launchpad’s gaze and the smile softening his expression. “We’ve both changed. Given up parts of our old lives to do what we do. And I don’t regret a second of it! Not if I get to do it with you.”

When he reaches Drake, all he does is take up the hand hanging limp at his side. 

“Do you want to adopt her?” Launchpad asks. 

Drake practically chokes on the breath trapped in his throat. “I-I don’t even have a mailing address,” he croaks. 

Launchpad shakes his head. “Not what I asked,” he chides gently. 

Drake looks down at his hand, focusing on the way Launchpad runs his thumb over his knuckles. “Y-yes,” he says. The weight of that truth both rises from his chest, allowing him to breathe once more, and settles over his shoulders like the weight of the world upon Atlas. He knows that sleeping only a handful of feet away is  _ his  _ whole world. 

“There,” Launchpad says, beaming, “was that so hard?”

Drake rolls his eyes, elbowing him with an indulgent smile. “Hey, it’s not like I set out to become a single dad at the start of all this.”

Launchpad draws him in a little closer. “What am I, chopped liver?” he says, and beneath the humor there’s an undercurrent of dead sincerity. 

He glances up at Launchpad with a start. Drake’s stomach swoops somewhere near his feet at the tentative smile on Launchpad’s face. “You want to…? With me?”

“Do you see any other daring ducks of mystery around here?” Launchpad rubs the back of his neck, and his smile flickers, betraying uncharacteristic fear. “I know we haven’t talked too much about the future, but I’ve been with a lot of people—” his eyes immediately go wide and he hastens to backtrack. “Not a  _ lot _ , I mean I’ve had girlfriends and boyfriends and significant others before I met you, not a lot, just-just  _ others _ ...um...what was I saying?” 

Drake laughs. He laughs and he reaches up to cradle Launchpad’s face between his hands. “You were saying that you’ve been with a lot of people before you met me,” he says pointedly. 

Launchpad chuckles weakly. “Right. Well, what I meant to say was that  _ until  _ you, I’d never been with anyone I could see myself having a future with, y’know? They always had to lead their secret ninja clan or rule their secret underwater kingdom or travel back to their own time period or they chewed with their mouth open.  But  _ you _ , Drake,” he says, with a smile that takes Drake’s breath away. “You and I are partners,” he says, “in crime-fighting and in life and I can see us having an amazing future together. If-if that’s what you want.”

To Drake it all sounds wonderfully, impossibly, like a proposal. 

“It is,” he says, breathless. “Of course it’s what I want.”

“Good,” Launchpad says in a rush, “Great! I, um, I was planning on doing this later, with-with a ring and everything. If you wouldn’t mind taking a rain check on that?”

Taurus Bulba is still lurking somewhere in the dark, waiting to snatch up the child Drake is already thinking as their own. F.O.W.L. is all encompassing, terrifying in their reach and limitless in their evil. But in spite of all that, Drake feels as certain of his future as he did when the man who would become his partner handed him his hat beside the flaming studio wreckage and told him that he could be a hero. 

He does the only thing he can think of and drags Launchpad down for a kiss. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
